The illusions of truth and falsehood coalesced into a Tribulation of Illusory Reality, swirling within a million veils of mist. From this maelstrom, phantom figures erupted, their anguished roars echoing as they surged towards the celestial rift above Wang Lin.

A resounding boom, a sound that reverberated across the entire Kunxu Starfield, shattered the silence. The ten-thousand-foot fissure trembled violently under the onslaught of Wang Lin’s tribulation. White hair whipping around his impassive face, his gaze as cold as the void, Wang Lin casually strode towards the crack in the heavens.

His steps were measured, yet each footfall unleashed a thunderous echo that intensified the rift’s violent spasms. His calm, unflinching advance stood in stark contrast to the sky’s chaotic tremors.

Wang Lin knew no fear before this celestial trial. Within him resided the heart of a sage, an unshakeable spirit of righteousness. To him, all things, even the heavens themselves, were equal, and no tribulation could escape this fundamental truth.

“All things possess a source,” he proclaimed, his voice ringing with conviction. “Today, Wang Lin shall witness the very genesis of this trial, its origin, and its purpose within the tapestry of creation!” His eyes blazed with determination as he closed the distance with the rift, the thunderous echoes growing with each step.

When he stood less than ten thousand feet from the chasm, a radiant light erupted from within, bathing the surrounding darkness in a brilliant glow, revealing the starfield’s nebulous mists.

From within the blinding light, a single object drifted forth: a simple whisk. Seven feet in length, its handle was carved from purple wood, its delicate strands composed of nameless white hair. Three thousand strands in all, they seemed to symbolize the countless paths of the Great Dao.

As it floated closer, the whisk flicked with impossible speed, and the three thousand silken strands danced into life. Each strand unleashed a force, an invisible wave radiating outward from the whisk.

Wang Lin paused for the briefest of moments, his eyes gleaming with understanding. Then, with unwavering resolve, he planted his foot and surged forward, a shooting star hurtling towards the ethereal whisk.

As the wave of energy crashed against the surrounding mist, one of the three thousand silken strands snapped free from the whisk’s base. Like a wisp of smoke, it coiled upon itself, silently transforming into a spell: the Art of Attraction!

Simultaneously, a second strand separated, swirling into being as the Art of the Fireball.

A third followed, condensing into a wave of chilling intent, becoming the Sword Decree of Slaughter, manifested as an endless storm of killing intent.

Fourth, fifth, sixth… In an instant, hundreds of strands had broken away, transforming into the Finger of Annihilation, the Finger of the Yellow Springs, the Finger of Demonic Transformation – all the myriad spells and abilities Wang Lin had witnessed in his early years of cultivation.

Some were arts he had mastered, others merely glimpses of power he had seen wielded by others.

Beyond the hundreds, the whisk continued to shed its silken strands, each one morphing into a different technique. There were arts of Master Qing Shui, techniques of Situ Nan, and the storm-summoning, earth-shattering power of Bai Fan.

In a heartbeat, all three thousand strands had unfurled before Wang Lin, coalescing into the countless spells he had witnessed throughout his life.

They included the arts of the Ascendant of the Azure Frost Water, the teachings of Scholar Lu, and even the formidable techniques of the Five Grand Sovereigns and the first and second Suzaku Emperors!

Three thousand strands, three thousand paths, three thousand spells! Nearly every art stored within the depths of Wang Lin’s memory was now manifest in the starfield.

These three thousand spells fused together with terrifying perfection, and with a sweeping gesture from the whisk, they surged towards Wang Lin, engulfing him in a maelstrom of power.

Perhaps one, two, or even a hundred spells would be insignificant. Even three thousand, alone, would pose little threat. But these three thousand spells were woven by the Heavenly Tribulation Whisk. Each one radiated a familiar energy, the unmistakable aura of immortality!

With such power infused into them, they threatened to shake the very foundations of the heavens and the earth.

This was no mere Qi of Immortality from the Four Immortal Realms of this plane. This was the true energy of Immortals, the golden light that flowed within their blood. Were it not for the madman’s gamble, and the golden blood born from the Immortal Decaying Body at Wang Lin’s brow, he would have been unable to recognize the force driving these three thousand spells.

But in that instant, understanding dawned. His pupils constricted as he gazed at the approaching storm, a killing intent flickering within his eyes.

“I had my suspicions. This tribulation originates from the Ancient Immortal Realm! The world beyond that rift… is the Ancient Immortal Realm. And now, sensing this pure Immortal Qi, it becomes clear: the Ancient Immortal Realm is deeply connected to the Immortal Astral Continent!” A faint golden light flickered from the three thousand spells as they descended upon Wang Lin.

The celestial vault quaked under the frenzied assault. The golden light swallowed Wang Lin whole, obscuring his form from view.

As the onslaught continued, another object emerged from the rift: a nine-story pagoda, entirely golden, radiating a boundless aura of authority. It floated from the chasm and swelled in size until it became a towering behemoth, tens of thousands of feet high. It then began a slow descent, crushing down upon Wang Lin, who was now a golden blur.

The three thousand-strand whisk, a tribulation of spells!

The pagoda’s crushing descent, another tribulation!

This trial against Wang Lin was unprecedented in its power. Had Wang Lin’s cultivation remained at the Void Nirvana Initial Stage, this trial would certainly have snuffed out his life!

Even at the peak of Void Nirvana Completion, he would have crumbled and perished under such a devastating assault!

Even in his current state, a formidable but otherwise typical Spirit Void stage cultivator with only one source of origin, would stand no chance against this overwhelming force.

The nine-story golden pagoda crashed down with cataclysmic force, engulfing the site of the earlier assault in a shroud of silence.

Within the million veils of mist, only one object remained: the golden pagoda, a monolithic presence as old as time itself!
A hush fell, heavy and unnatural, upon Nan Yunzi and his companions beyond the swirling mists. A jolt went through them, a primal unease settling in their hearts. Nan Yunyi’s eyes, wide with worry, remained fixed on the obscuring fog.

Si Tu Nan, his face a mask of grim silence, sensed a dark omen. Without a word, he surged forward, intending to plunge into the swirling grey. But Nan Yunzi, with a swift gesture, halted his advance.

“Nan Yunzi! You dare impede me?!” Si Tu Nan whirled, his eyes blazing with a desperate fury, pinning Nan Yunzi with a gaze that promised a living death. He knew he was no match for Nan Yunzi, but in this moment, with the chilling premonition of Wang Lin’s peril clawing at him, Si Tu Nan would defy even his own master, Qing Shuang.

Nan Yunzi ignored the venom in Si Tu Nan’s words. After a long, pregnant pause, he spoke, his voice low and grave. “The Sealed Lord is undergoing tribulation. We must not interfere. Your rashness will serve only to distract him, not aid him.”

Si Tu Nan’s gaze remained locked on the heart of the mist. His fists clenched, and after a long, agonizing silence, a voice rasped from his throat, “We wait…for half an incense stick. If stillness still reigns within, I will go.”

Nan Yunzi sighed inwardly, saying nothing, his own anxiety mirrored in the depths of his eyes as he stared into the churning fog.

Elsewhere, the ancient Zhan, a manic gleam in his eyes, grew ever more enthralled. He licked his lips, murmuring to himself, “The Three Nine Dust Whip, the Soul-Suppressing Pagoda…and the Seal of Fate, it was called…He cast all three into the Heavenly Tribulation when he laid the foundations for his domain…” The old ghoul’s words were cryptic, his gaze growing ever more unsettling as he watched the roiling mist.

Time dripped by, each moment an eternity for Si Tu Nan. For the thousands of cultivators from the Inner Worlds, a dread premonition began to take root. “Could it be…has the Sealed Lord failed?”

“Impossible! The Sealed Lord cannot fail!”

“The silence has endured for too long. What transpires within?” Panic began to fester in the hearts of the gathered cultivators, driving them to the brink of despair. Just as Si Tu Nan reached the limit of his restraint and was about to charge into the mist, a deafening roar erupted from within, shattering the oppressive silence that had held them captive for so long!

Deep within the heart of the million-mile expanse of mist, the solitary pagoda shuddered violently. The ear-splitting boom reverberated from its core.

Within the pagoda’s chaotic interior, Wang Lin was bound by three thousand silken threads of white. These were no mere threads, but three thousand manifested Divine Abilities, clinging to Wang Lin like parasitic vines, sealing his power.

Golden light pulsed throughout the pagoda, emanating an overbearing will, intent on refining Wang Lin, melting him down with its celestial power!

But the Heavenly Tribulation was unaware that within the depths of Wang Lin’s brow resided the purest, most untainted lineage of the ancient Celestials!

“So, the Heavenly Tribulation consists merely of these Divine Abilities… If that is all, then this tribulation… is too weak.” Wang Lin, bound by the silken threads, shook his head. His body surged outward, the ancient god star point in his brow spinning with blinding speed. The power of the Ancient God coursed through him, causing him to expand, tenfold, thirtyfold, a hundredfold… until he towered hundreds of feet high, a veritable titan. The silken threads, strained to their breaking point, began to snap. As Wang Lin completed his transformation into an Ancient God, the aura emanating from his being shattered the remaining threads into nothingness!

“Unworthy of consideration…” Wang Lin shook his head once more and strode upwards, his fist clenching, drawing upon the power of the Ancient God as a tidal wave. With a single blow, he smashed his fist against the peak of the pagoda!